


An Unlikely Fate

by Enzi



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Very Mature Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4623648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enzi/pseuds/Enzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome, weary reader. Come join me in a tale of the change of fate of Middle Earth and Thorin and Company. For it is heart-breaking for our favorite characters to wallow in death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Good day/evening/ whatever time it may be dear reader. I have tried my hand with a new story as I have become quite bored. I've posted this here from my FanFiction.net story that is already up.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of The Hobbit.

Our story begins on our world. Assuming you and I are both homo-sapiens from planet Earth. Equally, I shall assume that the two of us are in the same dimension, as we shall experience only this one and one other in our time together.

This tale is of woe, destiny, love and heart-wrenching dea— ah, well I guess I'll leave that all for later. For now, I shall introduce you to our lovely protagonist and main focal point of this storyline.

_Almárëa Eversire._

Yes, a strikingly odd name to you and I; however, this name is purposeful and has much meaning. Or at least her first name is of importance. I don't except you to know its origins and meanings, but you should know one thing, dear mind-adventurer, her name is not of this realm, dimension, et cetera, et cetera. Ahem. Now before we embark on this voyage of two minds that were fated to meet to witness the happenings of our dear friend, I shall grant you a small amount of information.

Our young lady is, or at one point was, an orphan. Abandoned on the Eversires' land she was found clothed in a beige piece of cloth, not a peep coming from her. The poor, young couple was frightened that she had died, as they had been harvesting crops all day and had just now reached her hiding spot on the edge of the small forest that bordered their farm and ranching land to the west. To the contrary, as Dina — our demure farmwife, picked up the swaddled babe, she began a hiccup like cry that was as frail as a frosted blossom after a thaw.

At discovering that the child was alive, the couple searched desperately for any signs of the mother that could have left her there. They searched for two and a half hours all around their farmstead. As Dina and Alexander met back at the babe's first location, they decided to give up the search and go back to their cottage.

Dina was a skinny, but toned and energetic woman. She could bail hay until it was time to bring the cows in. Her feet were steady and thick with rough pads blackened by barefooted work and many winters. Her hazel eyes were light and dull, unable to see anything twenty yards in front of her, but really nothing about our dear farmwife was special. Her hair was a mousy brown, but had once been a dark cherry at birth, and thanks to her labor and time in the sun it had lost its dark gloss and drummed up a light brown to match her skin tone. She rarely spoke out of turn, even to her husband Alex.

Alex wasn't much of a catch either. He was an average height, burly, dark haired, eyed and skinned from work. He sported several scars and calluses from his ranch work and several accidents. He and Dina had been determined to make a living like their parents had, and they had succeeded thus far. But in one area they were sadly lacking.

Dina was infertile.

The day the poor girl had learned the fate of her blood line she wept. She wept when Alex came in from town; she wept when she heard the children run down the street to the schoolhouse; she wept when they found _her_. Dina had been over-joyed after a month had passed and no one had come to find their little treasure. It had taken some convincing, but Alex had bent to the shy will of his wife. She had given little hints, and cooed to the babe every time she passed the makeshift cradle.

That is how our dear friend came to grow and live among the farmsteads of our world.

Fair-haired and pale skinned, the young child stood out amongst the other children. They gawked at her looks, her nose pointed and turned up at the end. Her blazing cerulean eyes pierced the surroundings and seemed to peer deep into the depths of the children's souls for truth, honor and loyalty. These qualities she barely found in the young ones; or the adults. The only people she felt she could truly have faith in were her dear parents.

Now my friend, surely you see why she is our focal point. _No_? Well then, let me continue to elaborate on our maiden.

She terrified the townspeople. Why? Because she was clever and intuitive. She would sit still and listen. Compile and remember — everything. Her vast knowledge of everything and everyone scared the willies out of them. Our dear Dina had to take her out of school when the youth had started arguing that the teacher was explaining something wrong. For fear of the townspeople stoning or harming the young, quiet child, the Eversires decided to let her teach herself at home. And that is where she expanded her mind to encompass even more subjects and concepts even her parents did not comprehend. By the human age of thirteen, Almárëa knew of astrophysics and the inner workings of calculus. After learning textbook materials, the young blonde grew bored and asked Dina to teach her the womanly aspects of life.

At the age of eighteen, the youth had learned everything her town and parents had to offer. All she could do was wait and watch the world outside. Nature was the one thing she never studied. An ingrained sixth-sense, her mother would happily declare. This sense lead her to walks in the forest. She would look at everything and anything to comprehend its purpose and life.

Dear mind-wanderer, now do you see? Our youngling had to wait a mere two more years before her fate took her captive and swept her away.

Unfortunately, her journey wasn't that of any pleasant manner. She was gruesomely ripped from the fabric of our realm to be thrust into that which only she could alter the path of.

And here, our story begins with precious Almárëa's death…


	2. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation with some Middle Earth Creatures and her arrival in Middle Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings
> 
> Here's some help for viewers on my writing style:
> 
> Italics are Almárëa's thoughts
> 
> "Italics with quotations are dream/ethereal/other worldly beings' dialogue"

_Whispers. What are they saying?_

Her vision was dark, fourteen clouded grey shapes moved about, looking at her, gesturing, yelling at the top of their lungs, but never could she hear them scream. Their voices were mere whispers in her ears.

_I can't hear anything… What are they talking about?_

The only feature she could ever pinpoint on the cloudy figures were their eyes. The only reason being one thing. They would glow varying bright colors. Her favorite were the green and lilac ones. They looked at her with hope, love, faith and trust. The others scared her.

_"…This one … you have to believe … do not be stubborn…"_

That was the lilac lady… She only knew them apart by their eyes and whispered voices that would echo around her ears as they spoke. They were fighting again, if only she knew what about…

_"… We cannot … you … how mad … imbecile… another perhaps … you must … do not-"_

The one with light grey eyes was yelling and pointing at her.

_It's coming soon isn't it? God please no._

She felt a wetness that was apart from the dark space she was in. Almárëa knew then, that she was crying in the waking world, when she was lost in this dark sleep realm she came to dream every night since her eighteenth birthday —two years ago. It would be those fourteen, continually fighting until—

_"…Show her … fate … knowledge … and it's… demise…"_

A figure she came to despise and fear glided towards her through the murky darkness. In her subconsciousness, she cringed away from the figure, but it didn't help nor prevent the ensuing terror…

Almárëa woke in a cold sweat, her body quaking and pale green in sickness. That dream had plagued her consciousness during the day and her dreams at night. The first time it had occurred she shrugged it off, convinced it was just a coincidence and side-effect from her reading fantasy novels before she fell asleep. However, after the first month of nothing but that _nightmare_ she started to worry.

That same worry was always with her. She would look over her shoulder when she helped Father in the fields, or constantly scan the tree line when she helped Mother with housework. The tingling sensation would spark and chill her flesh, even in near hundred degree weather.

But this time, she felt different. Almost relieved when she awoke, sick to her stomach. She wiped sweat from her face and preformed her daily routine of dressing before she deemed herself calm enough to face the day.

Breathing in slowly, she let her breath out slow to placate her frantic heart as she sauntered through the house to the front door. Her heart knew something she did not. But what, she didn't have the slightest clue, and it's not like she could ask the fleshy organ.

Glancing around, Almárëa walked into the field to find her father to give him aid in handling the livestock as they were supposed to prepare for the faire soon with their prized mustang and philly. However, he was no where to be seen … and her mother was not on the porch playing with their deck of cards.

"Mother? Father?" She turned in a circle crying out their names, her voice shaking in fear of being left alone. Her ears strained for their voices, but she heard nothing. Literally nothing. There were no birds chirping and singing to each other, no horses neighing to be let out, no sound of distant cars from the town. What was happening…?

She turned back towards the house only to stop in her tracks immediately. Her eyes zeroed in on black, misty creatures that were hunched over like big dogs, but they were much bigger than any dog she had ever encountered.

She took a step backwards, which unfortunately was a very grave mistake. The shovel and bucket her father used in the field happened to be directly behind her. Her step back knocked the bucket across the shovel which alerted the creepy wolf creatures to her location. The crash and fright caused her to lose her balance and slice her calf on the shovel blade, which only added pain to the deadly concoction of emotions Almárëa was experiencing.

_What if they got mother and father? What did they do to them?_

Her worry escalated her fright, and instinct took over as the creatures started to approach her, sniffing at the air, molten black eyes narrowing at her. Fight or flight. Most definitely flight, there was no way in the known universe she could fight those things, whatever fucked up beasts they were. So she stumbled up to her feet, calf sticky with blood from her fall, and tried to run for the tree line. She ended up limping most of the way, collapsing against a tree before the wicked howl of the creatures pierced her ears. Her eyes widened with terror and she started to run in earnest as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She would not let herself look back at those nasty creatures that were dead set on getting her, her view was of her immediate way of escape — forward.

_Forward, forward, only forward._

She was panting now, her heart beating just as frantically as it had this morning after that horrific dream. She twisted and turned through the forest, trying to find the familiar places she had explored ever since she was younger, but this forest she didn't know. The trees were much older, colossal and twisted. She frantically searched around for anywhere to stop and breath for just a few seconds so she could evade the creatures that were growling behind her.

Just as she wished for a reprieve from her mad dash, a voice whispered maliciously around her as dark fog closed in on her sides and behind her with the creatures.

_"There is no escape …. Surrender now… let the wargs release you from your fleshy confines and fate before it is too late…"_

_LIKE HELL_

She gasped for breath and ran harder, there was no bloody way she was going to let those things — wargs is what the voice called them, kill her. She flung her left hand out, grabbed a nearby tree and catapulted her body in that direction to further evade the disgusting creatures behind her — and the voice, yeah the voice too.

What Almárëa didn't count on was the intelligence the wargs possessed. They had separated their pack early in the chase to intercept her if ever she tried to evade the main pack. A signal howl from a warg behind her reverberated through the thick, black fog and trees; a sinister snarl from next to her was her only warning that the sister pack was there before a pair of jagged claws sank into her left side. The claws ripped through her simple shirt and tore at the flesh of her rib cage and hip.

A shrill cry escaped her as she pushed forward, her body aching with exertion, pain from her injuries, and terror. She knew they were gaining on her; they had been toying with her all along, staying just far enough behind that she thought she would make it out alive. That inkling of hope was decimated. The continual onslaught of bargaining from the voice just added to the feeling of inevitable doom.

When all her hope was lost and there was nothing she could possibly do but run, Almárëa was struck with a bolt of energy. This bolt was nothing like lightning, but shined with a more ethereal gleam. That's when her world was turned upside down.

A deep pit opened up in the forest floor underneath her. She had only seconds to react to the impossibility of the event that had happened, knowing full well what would logically happen next.

"Oh shit…" She gasped looking at the wargs charging towards her.

She prepared for claws, but instead was sucked down the pit in a maelstrom of howling winds and darkness.

She expected to hear the voice from the fog; however, as the winds died down she was met only with silence.Almárëa waited to crash against rocks, hard-packed dirt, or even water, but none of it came.

She felt as if she had been falling for an eternity; not knowing what had happened to her parents, why those creatures had chased her, or when the falling would end.

Finally, when she felt her back hit a solid surface, it wasn't what she expected. It was plush and soft. That was odd. She couldn't see anything; still held in the encompassing darkness, unaware of the goings on around her. A weight fell on top of her, covering her from the neck down.

_What is happening…?_

Her neck was sore, as if she'd been sleeping for an extended period of days, but still her eyes ached for sleep. She felt her body grow heavy with the drowsy sensation and gave in finally. She made a final plea for her life before drifting away.


	3. To Be Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings
> 
> Here's some help for viewers on my writing style:
> 
> Italics are Almárëa's thoughts
> 
> "Italics with quotations are dream/ethereal/other worldly beings' dialogue" (ie: Elvish)

Almárëa was jolted awake by the sound of water crashing against a wooden wharf. The unfamiliarity of her surroundings sent her heart into a panicked gallop. Her blood beat loud in her ears as she lifted herself up onto her elbows and glanced around. This was not her room.

The bed she was in seemed to be too large and plush. The frame was carved from what appeared to be a beige sandalwood - not the wrought iron she was used to. She craned her neck back looking at the headboard. Surprisingly it was carved from sandalwood as well, except it depicted an intricate design of beautiful ships sailing away on peaceful waters. Looking around the room she caught a glimpse of a set of very large doors that were open to what she thought was a small garden, the sheer curtains in front of the doors fluttered with a breeze that dazzled her senses.

Her gaze shifted around to spot a small table with a basin, a water pitcher and glass vials filled with different colors. Further to her left she spotted a high-backed chair carved from the exact same wood as the bed with what appeared to be clothing made from leather and smokey blue colors in an odd fashion she had not seen before draped over one arm.

Almárëa sat up completely, the plush white comforter she had been tucked under fell down, revealing a nightdress that was soft to the touch. She did not remember wearing such nightwear, nor did she remember changing into this particular gown. She picked at the long loose sleeves wearily. Where was she?

She glanced down at her arms, they weren't dirty from a day's work. She was utterly confused what had happened? She moved her legs and a jolt of pain shot up from her calf to her back. Gasping she threw the covers off of her lower half to reveal more of the nightgown and her legs. Slowly bending forward, she gripped the hem of the gown and lifted it to her knee, inspecting her calf. She stared confused. There was a long silver line that wrapped from her mid-calf to the outside of her knee. She couldn't remember how she got it. Maybe in an accident when she was younger, it must have been very old to be nearly invisible. However, the pain felt new. She absently traced the line and moved her leg slightly, trying with all her might to recollect the incident. She took a deep breath, the exhale burned and she whined audibly and clutched her side. The burning pain on her ribcage made her head throb.

Frightened, she yanked the buttons of the nightgown open and pulled the top to the left to look below her breast at jagged, silver lines. She stared awestruck.

"They look like claws . . ." She whispered to herself. Then it all came back to her, the wargs, the black fog, the people in her dream, and the hole that sucked her to god-knows-where.

"Where. . ?" She glanced around again, afraid once more of the unknown. Her eyes flashed around the room to find any trace of the foul creatures she had been fleeing from. But with no such darkness or nasty warped dogs in sight, her shoulders slumped back into a relaxed position. She sat up, swung her legs over the left side of the bed and made to get out of the plush mattress when her actions were interrupted when she heard footsteps from behind a closed door.

She tensed and stopped all movement immediately when the footsteps were accompanied by whimsical voices. Her eyes widened in horror as the knob on the door twisted and the door creaked open.

And there staring at her were a pair of faces she had never seen in her entire lifetime. They were beautiful and regal. Their hair was the finest dark chestnut she had seen; long, shiny and intricately styled. The angle of their cheekbones and long faces could command any room. However, the surprised expressions on the two faces that looked at her were anything but regal or commanding in nature, they were more curious and shocked than anything.

Almárëa gaped, her mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish. Her right hand shot up to grip the front of her nightgown together, frantically realizing she had not buttoned the garment back up. She flushed in embarrassment with the realization that one of them was not only taller, but considerably more masculine than the one that had opened up the door.

 _"Ah, goheno nin, hiril vuin (Ah, forgive me, my lady)."_ The smaller one apologized upon Almárëa's expression and tense posture. Her voice was beautiful and lilting, though strange. Almárëa was confused at the odd ringing in her ear when the beautiful woman talked to her. It seemed as if she was hearing two things at once. She had little time to try and comprehend what the odd sensation was before the woman talked again, _"Av-'osto, le nathlam hí. Im Baineth (Do not be afraid, you are welcome here, I am called Baineth)."_ She started to move more into the room with what looked to be wrapping cloth and salves. Almárëa froze in place as Baineth smiled warmly and sat the materials down on the end of the bed.

The man at the door, however, was none too kind. His face hardened as he stalked forward and yanked on Baineth's arm and started to speak hurriedly in her ear.

Almárëa could not hear what they were saying, but she watched Baineth's face contort into a fierce expression filled with rage. She yanked her arm out of the man's grasp and whirled on him, poking his chest as she said, _"Û, boe de nestad Galdor(No, she needs healing Galdor)."_

This so called 'Galdor' grimaced, nodded and then left the room. His footsteps echoed down the hallway before Almárëa heard a door open then shut close. She looked at Baineth, who grumbled under her breath as she started to unravel a long piece of cloth. The woman glanced at her with a sympathetic smile. "My apologies," She said with a slight accent, no longer speaking the flowing language from before. That was when Almárëa finally understood what had occurred earlier. She was hearing two different languages at once. As if one was being said through an ear, and the english translation was being spoken into the other. Baineth continued, "Forgive me, my lady, my Westron is not very good."

Almárëa shook her head, "No it's fine. . ." Her eyebrows scrunched, "Pardon," She asked her hands twitching nervously as the woman's eyes met her's, "Westron?" She questioned.

Baineth smiled, "Yes, the common speech. Spoken by Men and Hobbits. Elves, Dwarves and other Folk have also taken up the tongue, but many still stay true to their mother speech." At the young girls increasingly dumfounded look, Baineth giggled. "I am Baineth, an Elf of the Grey Havens. That is where we are now. Galdor is also an Elf. Though quite the grumpy one. I suppose it's from Círdan having him run all about the great vast Arda doing Valar knows what. That's what he gets for being a Messenger to the lord."

Almárëa gawked at her, perplexed. She glanced at the female's face, the elegance etched there and the intelligence in her eyes. However, the one feature that gripped her fascination was the pointed tip of her ear. Her face drained of all color as the elleth went about unraveling more of the long cloth before approaching Almárëa.

"I shall heal your wound, if you will allow me," Her head notched to one side her eyes looking pointedly at the girl's unbuttoned nightgown. Almárëa blinked slowly as the new information sank in. "Yes," She said as she let go of the two halves to let them fall unattached. Remembering her manners, her head jerked up, large blue eyes wide as she squeaked out a, "Please!" Which made Baineth smile as she worked on the long gashes on Almárëa's torso. The salve tingled and burned, but was altogether soothing and a welcome feeling in her state of confusion. With a slight tug, Baineth secured the strip of cloth around the girl's torso to protect the wound from possible irritation and infection.

Baineth moved away, but Almárëa barely noticed at all.

"Y-you said . . ." She started, "that we were in the Grey Havens . . ." She looked at the elleth, whom seemed unaware at the girl's struggle to grip reality.

"Yes, the great port in the Gulf of Lune of the Shipwright's creations. Many sail from Middle Earth to Valinor, the undying lands, to live out the rest of their lives in peace. None come back, only leave." Baineth explained with a sense of whimsy in the inflection of her voice.

"But, how did I come to be at this port?" Almárëa questioned in astonishment.

"I have not a clue, my lady. Lord Círdan found you. He only asked I look over you in my home until you were well enough to meet with his lordship." She came back to Almárëa at the bed with the strange garments that had been draped over the chair in the corner. "Which shall be as soon as you are dressed and properly fed to my liking." The smile on Baineth's face was one of pride, but of what the girl could not tell.

Almárëa was not used to the different fastenings, the layers, strange accessories and odd undergarments. Baineth had stripped her of the nightgown and had started to leave, but had returned to the girl when she tripped on the clothing was an absolute struggle for them.

While the two fought to right the garment, Almárëa kept apologizing for her lack of experience with the type of fashion.

For her the shock of her current situation was enormous and putting clothing on was a more daunting task than she could handle by herself at the moment.

_I must have been discarded in the looney bin and Baineth is my nurse. I must have crafted this fantasy to cope with everything because I went looney, that's the only logical explanation._

But the reality was so palpable. The texture of the leather, the silk of the clothing, Baineth's elvish curses, the slight itch from her healing wounds — all were so real. How could it feel so life-like, but psychologically be wrong. Her mind kept telling her that this was all so strangely wrong; that this was not what her life was supposed to consist of. Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits —the foreign languages, could not exist.Not ever.

But she couldn't shake the last memory she had of falling through the earth after being chased by shadows and twisted animals. Her parents missing. The forest she grew up in, gnarled and extra-terrestrial. Her head was pounding; her poor brain working overtime.

Almárëa's momentary stiffness as she examined all the likelihoods of her being dead or crazy gave Baineth enough time to completely right the garments on the girl. The elleth stepped back, while letting out a puff of air at their accomplishment.

"My apologizes, milady, it must have slipped my mind that you came to us in very unusual clothing, very unlike ours. I should have known you would require assistance. How daft of me…" Baineth shook her head in discontent as she started to walk out of the room, "Come along, we must get you fed and to the lordship post haste!"

Almárëa blinked in a stupor, glancing down at her attire briefly painting a picture of how stupid she must look. She was wearing what appeared to be deep blue leggings; eloquent - yet worn, brown boots; a soothing pastel blue tunic - which resembled what she thought must be a pirate's shirt, ending at her elbows; and a pair of warm, leather bracers on her forearms. She groaned, it was utterly ridiculous.

_Well at least it's not a dress…_

Huffing a strand of hair out of her face, Almárëa started after Baineth. What she didn't expect was to walk down several open corridors that looked over a magnificent garden filled with plants and flowers she had never seen; on through what appeared to be a study which contained even more of the sandal wood and into a humble kitchen with a singular table and chair.

She slammed her gaping maw shut, careful not to offend the elleth as she had been most kind thus far.

Baineth paid no mind to the young girl behind her as she prepared what looked to be a bowl of blue and red berries, a plate of bread with cheese and a glass of clear, milky liquid. Turning to the table, she set the bowl and plate down, only to retrieve the glass afterward and place it along side it. She stood back and a slight smile creased her mouth.

The elleth turned to the girl. They stared at each other for some time before Baineth frowned.

"Is something wrong? Is the meal not sufficient or to your liking?" She looked harried and began to wring her hands and glance at the meal aforementioned.

Almárëa finally broke away from her thoughts of the beauty of the home she was in and gaped at the elleth. "Oh, oh no!" She shook her head hurriedly, "I — I was merely in shock of my surroundings! Your house is ginormous and beautiful." She finally was able to choke the praise out, nervous that she might offend the woman in any way.

Baineth simply tilted her head in confusion, "It is of normal size, and is not just mine. Although the part of the Havens we are in currently is mine, yes."

As Almárëa moved to sit down at the table and eat, she gave the elleth a confused look. Baineth watched the girl start eating and decided to elaborate, "The Grey Havens are all interconnected housing and common areas that we share or own exclusively; the whole of the Havens are no one's to own, as we are entitled to our share of the rooms and living quarters. The rooms we passed through are some of mine, but not all." She watched the girl take a bite of the bread and cheese. She giggled when the girl made a face, and yet swallowed the food anyway. "The bread is to fill you up, make sure you eat the berries to give you energy. And drink the milk I have prepared."

Almárëa scarfed down half of the berries before glancing at the opaque liquid. She watched it suspiciously, not sure if she should drink the odd 'milk' or not. Her eyes darted to Baineth, picking the glass up and sipping a tiny portion into her parched mouth.

To say she was utterly shocked by the taste was an understatement. It was sweet like honey, but cold and had the consistency of water.

"I'm sorry but what kind of milk is this?" She asked the elleth watching her.

Baineth presented her with a smile filled with pride, "It is a mixture of milk and honey wine. It will make you calm and happy."

Almárëa glanced at the liquid. It had tasted amazing, even if it was alcohol. She downed the whole glass, setting it down gently. She found Baineth with her eyes and smiled.

"Thank you for feeding, caring and providing me with clothing." Her face burned, she had never had to rely on a stranger for aid.

Baineth nodded and began to walk away, "Yes, it was my pleasure to do so. Come along, Lord Círdan is not one to be kept waiting long."

Almárëa stood up, nearly knocking her chair to the ground, to follow Baineth through another open room and corridor to walk down a path in the garden.

"Will he be able to tell me why I am here?" She inquired, "The lordship I mean." She ducked under a low hanging branch, which subsequently gave her the chance to hide her blushing face which was the result of her near forgetfulness.

Baineth raised her eyebrows in confusion, before glancing off in the direction they were walking, "Perhaps. . . he knows many things, but not as much as some of the other Elven Lords of Arda."

Almárëa did not ask any further questions, fearing she would potentially talk the lovely elleth's ear off. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Her inner thoughts of her potential meeting with the lord were interrupted when Baineth came to a complete halt infront of a staircase at the end of the path through the garden. Almárëa berated herself for not observing the beautiful plants and scenery they had wandered through.

"This is where I depart from your presence until further notice, my apologizes." Baineth bowed her head and smiled. "May we meet in the future . . ." She turned and left back down the path they had taken.

Almárëa watched until Baineth disappeared behind a bend in the path and trees, before turning to the stairs. She cautiously started up them, only to be confronted by two elven men clad in what appeared to be armor. It seems they had been guards, meant to protect the Lord of the Grey Havens.

The ellon escorted her up farther past a landing to a study that was lit with many candles and filled with scrolls and books.

And there sitting in a plush chair, reading a scroll, was Lord Círdan. Long, pale grey hair, his eyes a deep green. He looked up and met her eyes.

"Dear young seafarer, how I have anticipated our meeting with you conscious." Círdan addressed her with a bow of his head. He did not look happy, nor mad. He gave her an impression that he suppressed his emotions to be neutral.

And with the fated meeting, she would finally understand why and how she came to be in Middle Earth amongst the Elves of the Grey Havens, west of the Shire where Thorin and Company were about to pester a poor Hobbit that lived under a hill.


End file.
